


The Smallest Moments

by WitchyBee



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And Less Magic, F/M, Gen, Modern Era, Still Thedas Except Modernized
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-09 16:45:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3257138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchyBee/pseuds/WitchyBee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dalish barista Ellana Lavellan meets Solas, an archaeologist researching the ancient elvhen. Need I say it? Everything changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sometimes the smallest moments can change everything. Perhaps if Ellana Lavellan had slept well the night before, she would not have been distracted on her way to work and stepped off the curb just as a car was speeding through the intersection. And perhaps she would have died right then had someone not grabbed her hand and pulled Ellana back onto the sidewalk.

"What are you doing?" she demanded irritably, turning to face the stranger, who dropped her hand at once. He was an elf like her, Ellana noted. His bald head and the angular shape of his features reminded her vaguely of an egg. A weirdly attractive egg, though.

"Saving you from what was certain to be an unfortunate accident," the man answered calmly. "Or was your intention to wander into oncoming traffic?"

"No, of course not. I was just...I’m late for work."

"Even so, there are worse things than tardiness. Like an untimely death. You should be more mindful of your surroundings." He spoke as if scolding a child, and although he was older than her by a decade at most, Ellana felt quite indignant about that tone. He didn’t know her. Of course, she didn’t know him either. This could very well be how he expressed genuine concern.

"Yeah, well thanks, um..."

"My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions." 

She raised an eyebrow, recalling the scraps of Elvish her grandmamae had taught her. Solas. Pride?

“Oh. I’m Ellana.”

"Spirited," he said, lips forming a thin smile.

"What?"

"Your name. Ellana means spirited."

They crossed the street without further incident, walking in silence until their paths eventually diverged on the next block.

 

—————————

 

"Sorry I’m late," Ellana said breathlessly as she entered the coffee shop. She’d jogged the last several blocks, and started running when the familiar sign came into view. "I almost died."

"That’s your best excuse yet," Varric laughed. He’d claimed his usual table, where he often spent the day writing on his laptop and making friendly conversation with anyone who’d listen. Varric came from a family of rich investors, most of whom he couldn’t stand. The Tethrases had disapproved of his choice to become a novelist. In fact, the only investment Varric had ever made was in this shop.

"It isn’t an excuse. A car nearly hit me!"

"Hey, I believe you, Sunflower. It’s Cassandra you’ll have to worry about."

"Shit. Where is she?"

"Went to the bank for a second. If I were you, I’d get behind the counter and pretend I’d been there the whole time. Maybe she won’t notice."

That seemed unlikely, but Ellana decided to try anyway. She took off her coat; she wore her uniform underneath, a black t-shirt with the shop’s bizarre logo on it—honestly, who thought an eye with a sword through it would sell coffee? Ellana had never gotten a straight answer about that.

Sera came in a few minutes later and ordered three shots of espresso (which she proceeded to drink as if they were shots of tequila), chatted a little but quickly got bored, then left. A typical Wednesday morning so far. Well, except for meeting Solas. The rest of today felt so normal in comparison that almost dying earlier could have just been a dream.

Cassandra returned from the bank, bursting through the door like a storm cloud.

“Good, you’re finally here.” She handed Ellana a stack of money—small bills to refill the register so they could make change for customers.

"I almost died this morning. That’s why I was late."

"Really?" She narrowed her eyes. “Well, it’s a good thing you did not or we would have to hire a new barista.”

"Aww, Cassandra does care," Varric quipped, reaching for his latte. Cassandra pointedly ignored the dwarf.

"Just don’t make a habit of it, Ellana," she said.

 

————————————-

 

Dorian arrived for his shift around midday. He was working toward a degree in literature, and working part time at the coffee shop to support himself as well as his passion for collecting rare books and drinking expensive alcohol.

Since afternoons were always less busy than mornings, they entertained themselves by doing _Val Royeaux Times_ crossword puzzles. Ellana was fairly sure Dorian cheated. But on rare occasions, usually when a clue referenced elven lore, Dorian sought her help. Assuming he wasn't too proud to ask for it.

"This is cruel and senseless," he complained. "You’d think a magister wrote it."

She grinned. “Is the great Dorian Pavus, conqueror of the Sunday crossword, stumped by a mere Wednesday puzzle?”

"Mm. Says the woman who struggles to get through the Monday editions."

"Well, I don’t have the benefit of a formal education," she pointed out. "Home school, remember? If you can even call it that. I learned wilderness survival skills long before I ever read a book."

"Yes of course, you’re an unwashed barbarian," Dorian agreed teasingly, turning his gaze back to the crossword. "Varric mentioned you narrowly escaped death this morning. I assume that was an exaggeration considering the source, but I’ll admit to some curiosity."

Ellana shrugged. “I was crossing the street and a car came out of nowhere, going way over the speed limit. If I’d taken one more step—Anyway, this guy kind of saved me. I guess.” She was not blushing. She was not.

"Oh? Do tell. Is he as handsome as I?"

"No one’s as handsome as you, Dorian."

"Ah, quite right. It is my burden to bear."

"I don’t know. The entire situation was just really weird. He’s an elf; I don’t know many elves here other than Sera. He kind of looked like an egg, but in a good way." She sighed. "Solas. Maybe I could find him on Facebook? No, then I’d seem like a stalker."

Dorian’s face lit up. “Solas, you said?”

"Yeah. Why? Do you know him?"

"Not personally, but I know of him. He works at the university. Archaeology department, I think? Something like that. I've see him in the library from time to time, researching...archaeological things, I suppose."

Ellana wasn’t sure how to respond to that information. For all she knew, Solas could be married with ten kids or simply not interested in a Dalish barista. Even if that turned out to be the case, though, he was still a potential friend. In the city, you had to make your own clan—neighbors, coworkers, and strange elves with eyes like the ocean or the sky before a summer storm.

 

\-----------------------------

 

The end of her shift meant two wonderful things: It was finally time to go home, and any doughnuts and scones leftover from the morning were now up for grabs. Ellana stared at the last remaining bear claw with sheer lust in her eyes.

"The breakfast of champions," Dorian said. "After the day you’ve had, it’s all yours."

"You’re too good to me. You know that?"

"Indeed. You are positively spoiled, my friend."

While Ellana put her doughnut into a paper bag, he gave the crossword one final attempt, but his efforts were fruitless. Dorian glared at the puzzle and tossed it aside.

"Surrendering already?"

"What? I’m _Tevinter_ ,” he balked, insulted by the very idea. “We never surrender. Not to Andraste, or the Qunari, and certainly not to some Orlesian widow with fifteen cats who spends her days writing infuriatingly onerous crosswords. Probably why there are so few of us left. Vishante kaffas!” Dorian sighed. “I’ll try again tomorrow, provided I can resist the temptation to Google the answer.”

Ellana smiled. “I believe in you.”

"Let me know if you want a hint, Sparkler," Varric offered, flashing a mischevous grin. But his laptop was already closed as he prepared to leave. He had no intention of actually following through with that friendly threat.

"Well, I’m heading home," Ellana declared as she pulled on her coat. "I’ll see you both tomorrow."

"Try not to die. I would notice if you were gone," Dorian said lightly, but there was an underlying worry in his tone if you knew how to listen for it.

"He’s right, Sunflower, if you make us worry too much, I’ll ask Leliana to have her people keep an eye on you."

"For the last time, Varric, my neighbor is _not_ running a secret spy network. Real life isn’t like one of your books."

"That’s exactly what she wants you to think," he replied.

Ellana made it home eventually. After climbing the four flights of stairs to her apartment, she unlocked the door, and almost immediately flopped down on the couch, exhausted. She could hear the gentle strum of Leliana’s harp through the wall. Some people might have found it annoying, but she didn’t mind. It was soothing. Which probably explained why her eyes drifted shut in minutes, the music lulling her to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Ellana was jolted from sleep by her phone, vibrating in her coat pocket. A text alert. She squinted at the blinding light of the screen.

Leliana was an amazing cook. The dishes she made were sometimes too decadent for Ellana’s tastes, having grown up foraging and hunting for food. Her own culinary repertoire didn't extend much beyond tuna casserole. She was starving, and perhaps they both could use a friend’s company tonight. Ellana tried to make herself look somewhat presentable before heading next door.

The smell of exotic spices filled Leliana’s apartment. Photographs of faraway places lined the walls, her harp stood in the corner, and near the window sat a birdcage that contained the injured raven she was nursing back to health. Their building’s landlord knew about the bird. He did not know about the nugs, Schmooples II and Boulette.

Ellana found her neighbor in the kitchen, pouring an expensive wine into two long-stemmed glasses. Dorian would be jealous, she thought. The dinner table was already set with two bowls of Orlesian lamb stew, meaning that either Leliana had known she’d accept her invitation, or she had been expecting someone else until the last minute.

"Hey. How’s Baron Plucky doing?"

"Oh, a little better. His wing is healing nicely," Leliana replied, handing her one of the glasses. "We should eat before the stew gets cold."

They did. Ellana noticed for the first time that music was playing quietly from the stereo. Something operatic or classical. She always felt kind of inadequate in this apartment that was infinitely nicer than hers, surrounded by so much Culture and fine things. But she knew Leliana didn’t think that. The singer may carry herself like a lady, but she was never judgmental.

"Josephine had to cancel our plans," Leliana said. "Some important negotiation came up. I could tell you were wondering." How did she do that? It was uncanny.

"That sucks," she replied sympathetically. It earned her a slight smile.

"It’s what happens when your lover is a diplomat."

Ellana sipped her wine. “If you want, we can go to my place and watch Netflix until we forget about our problems.”

She considered it. “Should I bring the wine?”

"Definitely."

 

—————————————————-

 

The next day Ellana arrived on time for work, the morning rush well underway. Or at least what passed for a rush in their small shop. Cassandra went to check on a late delivery, leaving her to take over the register. Ellana desperately wanted to make herself some tea, but there were customers to help first.

"Hello again." That voice—It was Solas. "I see you are no worse for wear after yesterday’s ordeal."

She willed herself to relax. This didn’t have to be weird. Why should it be? Ellana barely knew the man. He didn’t particularly seem surprised to learn that she worked here, though. Perhaps he already knew somehow. Had Solas come hoping to see her again?

"Yeah. Hi, Solas, w-what can I get you?" Nailed it.

He ordered a small decaf coffee and one of those frilly cakes they bought wholesale from a bakery in Val Royeaux. She took the opportunity to get a better look at him. Discreetly as possible, of course. No vallaslin, so most likely city born. He wore a beige knit sweater—elven knit if she had to guess, though it had been years since she’d practiced the craft herself. On a leather cord around his neck hung a wolf’s jawbone. When Solas picked up his coffee, Ellana couldn’t help but notice his hands. Artist’s hands—soft, long fingers used to delicate work.

"Thank you," he said politely. He tipped well, too, gods bless him.

"Have a nice day."

She expected him to leave the shop. After all, he must be busy. So Ellana was quite surprised when Solas took his coffee and cake to a table near the window. He sat down, pulled out a book from his bag, and read.

Varric soon walked up to the counter, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Is that the guy?” he asked in a low voice.

"How did you know? Does everyone know?"

"Oh come on, Sunflower, you’re not exactly subtle. You’ve been ogling him since he came in here."

"I have not!"

"Right, sure you haven't. So...are you actually gonna talk to him or do I have to call Sparkler?"

"No! Don’t you dare, Varric."

"All right, calm down," the dwarf laughed. "And put another latte on my tab."

 

—————————————————

 

Almost noon. Dorian would arrive to start his shift any minute now. Solas was still there...and Ellana still hadn’t talked to him. She’d have to do it sooner or later, if Varric got his way (which he always did.)

"Cassandra, I’m going to take my break now."

"Very well."

All she had to do was go over to Solas’ table and say...something. Simple. How difficult could it be to begin a conversation? Although he did look quite absorbed in his reading. Maybe he preferred to be left alone. Hopefully she wasn’t bothering him.

"Do you, um, mind if I join you for a few minutes?" Ellana asked hesitantly.

Solas looked up from his book, surprised but not necessarily annoyed by the distraction. “Not at all.”

Across the room, Varric offered an encouraging smile.

"I feel like I should apologize," she said. "I wasn’t very grateful yesterday. I hadn’t slept well, and I was stressed about being late for work and I just wasn’t myself. Now I’m rambling. Sorry."

He closed the book. “There is no need. Few people are themselves so early in the morning.”

After a pause, she asked, “You’re an archaeologist, right? My friend Dorian mentioned it. He's a student at the university.”

"Your friend was correct, I am."

"What made you start studying archaeology?"

His gaze met hers then, and there was a sadness in his eyes Ellana couldn’t name. “So much history has been lost to us. The Dales are but a faded memory. Halamshiral was a pale reflection even in its prime. Elvhenan, like all great empires, inevitably crumbled beneath the weight of corruption. I strive to recover that ancient knowledge, even if only a fragment of it.”

Ellana stared, speechless. “That’s extraordinary. Was Arlathan really so beautiful? I’ve heard stories, but…”

Solas smiled, but sadly. “Imagine spires of crystal twining through the branches, palaces floating among the clouds. Imagine beings who lived forever, for whom magic was as natural as breathing. Yes, magic was once real as well.”

"Thanks for talking with me. I should get back to work now."

He nodded, returning his attention to the book. “Another time then.”

Another time? Well, yes, Ellana wouldn’t mind talking to him again. In fact, she’d like that very much, assuming she managed to avoid embarrassing herself or sounding like a complete idiot. Ellana may not be as articulate as Solas, but she was good at archery and knew how to skin a deer. Not many people could claim as much. That had to count for something.

"I talked to the archaeologist today," she quietly told Dorian later.

He looked confused. "What archaeologist?"

"You know who I mean. He’s right ov—" Ellana stopped. Oh. He'd gone. "Varric, when did Solas leave?"

"Around the time your break ended, Sunflower."

Well, that was certainly...interesting. Ellana made a very conscious effort to think nothing of it.


	3. Chapter 3

Ellana yawned. The phone buzzing on her bedside table had woken her. She got up and made coffee, knowing there was no point in pretending she would get a full night’s rest now. Ellana glanced over toward the couch as if to verify that no one was, in fact, asleep on it. She replied to Sera's text and told her to come in.

"Me and Jenny had a row. Don’t wanna talk about it," the city elf said without preamble, flopping down on her couch. She then continued, "I yelled stuff, she yelled stuff. We both threw a lot of stuff. No kissing, or I wouldn’t be here."

"She kicked you out?!"

Sera scoffed. “No, I left. Found out she’d been screwin’ somebody else for months. _I_ don’t share. It’s just...”

"Shit," Ellana muttered sympathetically.

"Yeah, damn right it’s friggin’ shit! Ugh!"

Ellana could tell she was in for a very long night. The kind of night that would probably start with drinking and end with a beehive shoved into a certain cheating ex-lover’s mailbox.

 

———————————————————-

 

Solas came into the shop on a semi-regular basis after his initial visit. They often talked when Ellana was on her break. During one conversation, she even gave Solas her phone number, written neatly on the receipt for his coffee. The gesture made her feel a bit foolish, like an adolescent girl in a movie pining for someone who would likely never reciprocate her feelings. But hey, it couldn’t hurt to try.

She asked him many questions—about himself, his work, the ancient elves—which he always seemed glad to answer, pleased by her curiosity. But he never asked Ellana anything. She got the impression that Solas already knew, or believed he already knew, everything of interest about her.

"I’d like to hear your opinions about elven culture," she said.

"I thought you would be more interested in sharing your opinions of elven culture," Solas replied, an edge to his voice. Distaste, or maybe even anger. She had done nothing to provoke such a hostile response. "You are Dalish, are you not?"

Ah. Except being who she was, of course. City elves were mistrustful of the wild Dalish at best. Sera had taken a long time to get over Ellana’s perceived “elfyness” and warm up to her. She’d thought Solas would be different, considering his tendency to subvert her expectations so far. She felt a pang of disappointment.

"Yes?" she answered, her voice smaller and more uncertain than intended. _We are the last of the elvhen, and never again shall we submit._ Ellana cleared her throat and tried again, "Yes, I am. Proudly."

"Yet you are such a long way from your clan, living among dwarves and humans alike, serving them. Why?"

Ellana stiffened. She didn’t want to talk about this, especially not in the middle of an argument, so she employed a tactic Solas used frequently to evade personal questions: diversion.

”That doesn’t change who I am or what I apparently represent to you. The Dalish try to preserve our people’s culture. What’s wrong with that?”

"Our people. You use that phrase so casually. It should mean more. But the Dalish have forgotten that, among other things. They are children acting out stories misheard and repeated a thousand times," he sneered.

That pissed her off. “Oh! But you know the truth, right?”

"While they pass on stories, mangling details, I uncover the truth. I have seen things they have not."

"Then why don’t you pull your head out of your smug ass and teach them?"

"You have been spending too much time with Sera," Solas admonished, frowning. "How many of them would listen? Or would they only see some flat-ear academic who has thrown his lot in with the hated shemlen and refuse my offer to share knowledge? I wonder if they would not see you in a similar light."

Ellana’s rage faded, her shoulders slumped. She’d had enough. “Right. Well, I think we’re done. And I've got to say...it sucks, because I really like you. I knew you were sort of pompous, but this—well, just let me know if you ever grow the fuck up, _hahren_.”

Ellana stormed away before Solas could have the last word. She returned to work, and the next time she risked a glance in his direction, there was no trace of the stupid egg.

 

——————————————————-

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the kudos and comments on the last chapter. It means a lot to me. <3

The last thing Ellana expected to find when she entered the stockroom was Cassandra sitting on a box with a novel in hand, reading intently.

"Good book?"

The shop’s owner gave a surprised yelp, jumped to her feet and snapped the book closed immediately. Cassandra stared at her in horror, eyes wide.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

"Really? Are you sure?"

Cassandra sighed. “It’s a book.”

"Yes, I can see that. Why’re you hiding out in here to read it? Dorian reads when he should be working all the time. And does crossword puzzles."

Hands on her hips, Cassandra asked, “Are you quite certain you should be telling _me_ this?”

Ellana shrugged. “Maybe not. The point is, no one’ll care if you take a break now and then.”

"It’s frivolous," she insisted. "And I would prefer no one saw me reading it."

"Why? Is it a bad book?"

"Yes. No! It—it’s...one of Varric’s tales. _Swords & Shields_, the latest in the series. They’re terrible and...magnificent.”

She took a moment to calculate the risk of being fired, decided it was worth the gamble, and laughed until tears filled her eyes. “Oh my gods! You read smutty romance novels!”

"Quiet! Varric might hear you. Whatever you do, don’t tell him!"

"Cassandra, honestly I’m not judging you," she said, regaining some degree of composure. "We all have our little guilty pleasures. I secretly enjoy watching Lifetime movies. Dorian likes Fereldan beer. Yeah, Varric might tease you if he found out, but don’t you want a sneak peek of the next book? I’m sure he’s working on it."

"Well, I...yes. This one ends in a cliffhanger," she admitted. "You could ask him to finish it. Command him to!"

Ellana chuckled. “Ma nuvenin. Right away, boss. I forgot why I came in here anyway.”

"Pretend you don’t know this about me," Cassandra said.

 

———————————————-

 

"I just saw Cassandra reading _Swords & Shields_."

Varric’s fingers paused mid-sentence on the keys of his laptop (Bianca, he called it—her—affectionately. No one had ever managed to get him to reveal the true story behind that name. It was the one story he would never tell.)

"I must have heard that wrong, Sunflower. It sounded like you just said that _Cassandra_ likes my books?"

Ellana grinned. “I think ‘loves’ would be a better word. She’s a pretty huge fan.”

"Okay, but _Swords & Shields_? The romance series? It’s easily the worst I’ve ever written. My publisher almost dropped me because of those books. The last one barely sold enough copies to pay for the ink, and I still have a few boxes sitting in my basement."

"You should autograph them and give them to Cassandra," she suggested. "Or write another book. She’s dying to know what happens next."

"Well, she’ll be waiting a long time then," Varric replied. "I wasn’t planning to finish it." He resumed typing, but she wasn't going to give up that easily.

"Come on, Varric, it would make her so happy!" Ellana said. "I’ll pay your tab for a month—free coffee whenever you want—and you can be there when I give her the book."

Varric gave a long-suffering sigh, but the dwarf’s smirk betrayed his amusement. “This is such a terrible idea; I have to do it. Cassandra is a terrifying fan, though. The last time she read one of my books, she got so invested in the protagonist that when something bad happened to them, she stabbed the book. Literally. With a knife. Who’s to say I won’t be next?”

"Wow. Thanks for doing this, Varric," she said earnestly. "I guess in some way I just feel like I owe her. Cassandra was the first person I met after I moved here. She gave me a job when I had no previous work experience. Everywhere else I applied to turned me down the minute they saw my vallaslin. She’s been a good friend to me."

"But you’re still gonna tease her about reading that shit, right?"

Ellana smiled sweetly. “Of course I am.”

"You know, the fact that the book is terrible just makes it more worthwhile somehow."

 

——————————————————————————

 

"You texted your Solas back yet or what?" Sera wondered, leaning her elbows on the counter. Ellana, who was cleaning the steamer wand with a damp cloth, glanced toward Sera just as she unwrapped a piece of gum and popped it into her mouth.

"You’re not going to pay for that, are you?"

"Hey, you answer my question. I asked first."

"He’s not _my_ Solas," Ellana insisted, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "He’s not my anything."

She snorted, chewing her gum loudly. “Yeah right. Whatever you say.”

"I’m not sure what I should say to him."

"Cor, elfy drama," Sera groaned. "Why do you two have to be so stupid about this? Ugh! You’re sorry, he’s sorry, you both wanna fuck—simple. It’s not like he screwed somebody else behind your back or nothing. Just go out and get a drink with him. Like _normal_ people."

"I don’t know..."

"A drink? I could certainly use one," Dorian chimed in. He seemed lost in thought, glaring at his smartphone. "Got an email from my father."

"What does the honorable Lord Poncyface Cuntbag want this time?" Sera asked.

"Oh, the usual, just for his precious heir to come home, marry some nice girl from a powerful Tevinter family and resign myself to a life spent in luxurious misery. Nothing too unreasonable about that, I suppose."

Ellana hated the way Dorian’s family treated him. Among her clan, everyone cared about each other above all else; it was necessary for survival. But she had learned that, here, you depended on your friends to support you.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

"Yes, actually," he said. "When was the last time you left your apartment for any reason besides work or other adult responsibilities? Come to The Herald’s Rest tonight. I’m buying. Invite your archaeologist, perhaps."

"He’s _not_ my—"

"Sera, will you be joining us as well?" Dorian interrupted, smirking.

"Wouldn’t miss it," the city elf replied with a grin. "And I’ll make sure our Ellana don’t either. I know where she lives."

"Of course you do, you’re sleeping on my couch."

"Exactly!"

 

\--------------------------------

 

Ellana somehow found the courage to text Solas and invite him out to The Herald's Rest. She didn't really expect him to accept her invitation, and almost hoped that he wouldn't as it would mean fewer opportunities for her friends to tease Ellana about Solas being _her_ anything.

But then Solas agreed to come along.

That was certainly a surprise. Gods willing, Varric and Dorian would behave themselves. No amount of divine intervention could make Sera behave. And yet, Ellana still looked forward to it.


	5. Chapter 5

The Herald’s Rest. It was a strange name, but Cabot was a strange bartender—a surly dwarf with a dry sense of humor. They came here regularly because the bar was close and quiet enough to hear each other talk. Besides, they were all too old for the club scene.

"Just got a text from Cassandra," Varric informed the group as he shuffled a deck of cards in preparation for Wicked Grace. "She’s on her way here, and she’s bringing Curly." His nickname for Cullen, of course.

Cassandra had met Cullen while they served together in the military. When he chose to leave that life behind, she helped him as any friend would. Cullen had been through a lot, especially for a man so young. Seen his comrades die. Witnessed atrocities. Torture. Ellana didn’t know the details, only that Cullen now attended a support group for recovering lyrium addicts, and he was a nice guy. One of the first humans to show her kindness after she arrived in the city.

"Leliana and Josephine can’t make it," she said. "They left this afternoon to spend a romantic weekend at the beach."

"Nice." Sera grinned. "They’re gonna have sex."

"Yeah, Buttercup, that’s the idea."

Cassandra entered the bar five minutes later with Cullen in tow. Seats were taken around the large table, pleasantries exchanged, and drinks ordered. She sat next to Sera on her left and now Cullen on her right. It was impossible not to notice the empty chair across the table. No sign of Solas yet.

"Hi, Cullen. How are you?" Ellana asked.

"I’m all right, thank you," he replied, but the man looked pale and exhausted. No one deserved to face the demons that haunted him.

Solas slipped inside quietly, but Sera noticed him right away and jumped up to move to another chair, ensuring that he would sit beside Ellana. Tonight Solas wore jeans, his favorite soft knit sweater (It looked soft, anyway), and of course that wolf jawbone necklace.

"Hello, lethallin," Solas greeted her as he sat down. Hearing him speak the word was much different than reading it in a text message. She felt her cheeks flush, but blamed it on the double vodka cranberry she was nursing. Ellana was a bit of a lightweight.

"Aneth ara."

"Right, now that we're all here..." Varric started dealing the cards. "You in, Chuckles?"

Solas arched a brow at the moniker.

"Varric nicknames everyone. It’s sort of a rite of passage thing," Ellana explained. "Welcome to the family, ma falon."

"Ah." He nodded. "I’m not much of a gambler anymore, Master Tethras."

"Losing money can be both relaxing and habit forming," Dorian said, sipping a glass of brandy. "Give it a try."

"That goes for you too, Curly," Varric added.

They would soon regret convincing Solas to play Wicked Grace, however. Dorian cheated, but even that didn’t help him against Solas who was, everyone quickly learned after a few hands, very skilled at card games. The man had no discernible tells. Watching him take more and more of her friends’ money was oddly alluring somehow.

"Hey, Solas! You like elfy stuff," Sera said, practically an accusation. "Why’s that, then?"

"Our people have lost much," Solas replied. If he knew she intended to wind him up, he didn’t appear bothered by it.

"Our people? Nope, don’t think so. _I’ve_ lost nothing."

"You have lost more than you could possibly understand. You, Sera, are the furthest from what you were meant to be."

She snorted. “Whatever. I seen the way you look at our Ella, yeah? I bet she’s elfy enough for you. Booooring. The elf always takes the elf so bangin’ bits will mean something. Drop ‘em and rebuild the empire! Ha!”

"You’re ridiculous," Ellana giggled. She was just tipsy enough for this situation to be amusing rather than mortifying.

"Not me. It’s him! And you. Just get a room already. Ugh."

Solas looked as calm and unperturbed as always. Ellana kind of hated him for that; she was blushing to the tips of her ears by now. And she hated Solas’ condescending attitude. And his beautiful hands. And his lips...and...

"Ellana?" Solas peered at her, slightly concerned.

"Huh?" She blinked. Oh, right. It’s weird to stare at people. “‘m fine. Sorry. A little drunk." Ellana wondered if he’d ever been drunk before. It was difficult to imagine a young and foolish Solas, but at times she did notice a spark of rebellion in his eyes whenever he talked passionately about a subject. The sense of a person who had once lived recklessly, made mistakes and learned well from them.

Everyone was finishing their last drinks, saying their goodbyes, and leaving the bar. Ellana stood up slowly. She was a little unsteady on her feet at the moment. Dorian wrapped an arm around her shoulder, smiling contentedly. She leaned into her best friend’s embrace and closed her eyes. Gods, she was tired.

"You can’t sleep yet, Ella," he said gently.

"I will drive her home," Solas offered. Unlike her, he hadn’t touched any alcohol that evening. Normally Ellana would insist on taking a taxi; she didn’t want to impose, after all. But she was finding it difficult to care right now.

"Ma serannas," Ellana mumbled. "Can I touch your sweater? It looks really soft."

 

———————————————————

 

Solas’ car was warm as they drove through darkened streets toward her apartment building. In an effort to stay awake, she watched him—his grey eyes focused on the road ahead.

"Did you have fun tonight?" she asked.

"I did. I devote so much time to my work that...other things have been neglected," he said. "Your friends are quite interesting company."

It struck her for the first time that maybe Solas was lonely. As far as she could tell, he surrounded himself with books, consumed by his studies and interacting little with the world around him or other people. Not that Ellana had much of a social life either.

"They could be your friends, too," she offered.

"That would be..." Solas cleared his throat. "...Well." Creators, he was actually flustered! Miracles truly did happen.

"Might help if you let them win at cards sometimes," she added.

Solas chuckled. “Perhaps.”

When they reached their destination, Solas nearly insisted on making certain she got to her door safely, but Ellana was sober enough now to walk to her apartment by herself. She’d wandered home alone much more inebriated than this before. Not that Solas needed to know that, however.

"Thanks for the ride," she said.

"Of course. Thank you for the invitation." He smiled. "Dareth shiral."

The ancient language upon his lips always made her feel safe and warm, reminded her of dark nights gathered around a campfire and listening to the hahren’s stories. Of her grandmamae braiding flowers into Ellana’s hair on the first day of spring. Tears in her eyes when the Keeper wished Ellana a safe journey, knowing she would likely never return to the clan. _Mythal enansal, da’len. Ghilan’nain enaste ma. Dareth shiral._

"Goodnight, lethallin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading. In the next chapter: Ellana visits Solas at his house and the flirting intensifies.


	6. Chapter 6

Ellana opened her eyes and immediately regretted it. Late morning sunlight poured in through her bedroom window. Thank the gods she didn’t have to work today. She groaned and reached over to check her phone, which flashed with two unread text messages.

Ellana smiled. Varric was a bit of a mother hen, always worrying. Sometimes even more so than Josephine. He kept a close eye on his friends at all times, making sure they weren’t in any trouble. He’d lost people before, she knew.

The second text was from a very hungover Dorian.

Inspired by her best friend’s percipience in the face of seemingly insurmountable difficulties, she got out of bed as well—but took the blanket with her into the living room. Sera lay on the couch fully clothed and snoring softly, one arm dangling over the side.

 

———————————————————————-

 

Solas was a very private person. Ellana knew that, which was precisely why she had never expected to find herself standing in his home. And yet...here she was. Bookshelves were scattered everywhere, though fewer and less organized than she’d seen in Dorian’s apartment. A desk in the corner strewn with papers. He didn’t own a television, unsurprisingly.

But by far the most notable thing about Solas’ house was on the walls. Almost every wall was covered from baseboard to ceiling in beautiful murals, elaborate watercolors of wolves and dragons and even a masquerade ball. It was truly breathtaking. This was quite an unexpected revelation. She couldn’t fathom the time, the attention to detail it must have taken to create such phenomenal paintings.

"You should’ve been an artist," she said in awe.

"Am I not? Archaeology is one way of preserving the past, and this is another. There is beauty in both," Solas replied. "I once found a ruined temple, its worshipers forgotten. Their holy scriptures had been burnt—long ago turned to ashes by their enemies. But they had carved images of their gods into the stone itself. Painted elaborate murals depicting the bloody battles they fought to protect that sacred place. People always leave something behind. Footprints in the dust."

"So that’s what this is?" Ellana wondered. "Your footprints?"

"Possibly."

"Hmm. Seems like photography would be easier."

He chuckled. “True, but a photograph fades over time. It can be damaged or lost. When I am gone, the people who own this house might paint over my fresco, but the images will remain beneath.”

Sweet Sylaise, he painted like an artist and spoke like a poet.

“Are you an archaeologist or a philosopher?”

"I find the assumption that a person can be only one thing confusing," he said sincerely. "We all wear masks in different company. You are Dalish and yet you count city elves and humans among your closest friends. You make coffee for a living but you prefer tea. Any one of these things could be seen as a contradiction, yet they are all no less true."

"You have...an interesting way of looking at the world, Solas." Ellana hoped her tone sounded flirtatious, and that he didn’t notice the pink tinge in her cheeks.

A slight smile. “I try.”

Ellana walked over to a bookshelf and skimmed the titles. Most of them were about elven history and something called the Veil. Several tomes were written in a language she couldn’t translate. Ancient Elvish, perhaps? Ellana carefully flipped through a book she could read, but it made very little sense to her; the Dalish didn’t generally write things down, so comprehending technical jargon wasn’t her best skill. Solas’ meticulously neat handwriting filled the margins, usually offering a correction to the text. She returned the book to its spot on the shelf.

"May I ask you a personal question?"

Ellana looked at him, intrigued albeit a touch wary. This wasn’t how their dance usually happened. She was the one who asked questions while Solas provided answers. Clearly the rules had changed.

"Um, yeah, of course."

"Why are you not with your clan?"

Oh, and there it was. Ellana had sensed his curiosity before. What could have brought a lone Dalish elf to the big city? She could avoid the question, refuse to answer, or make something up. But Ellana wanted to tell him the truth. She couldn’t keep this to herself anymore. Leliana was the only person who knew; there was nothing the musician didn’t know.

"It’s...not a happy story," Ellana warned as she sat down on the futon beside him.

"If you do not wish to speak of it—"

"No, I-I need to." She took a deep breath, steeling herself. "It wasn’t supposed to be permanent. Grandmamae thought I should see more of the world, so I was sent here for three weeks. I met Sera and we became good friends after she eventually got past my Dalish roots. And then six months ago, my clan…" Her voice faltered. Solas reached over and took her hand.

"They were camped in a valley near Wycome," she pressed on. "Not bothering anyone. But I guess some of the locals didn’t take kindly to savage knife-ears that close to their homes, so they...murdered my clan. The shems had guns. Our hunters were outnumbered. Grandmamae fought but she—" Ellana felt the sting of tears. "I saw it on the news. Any survivors must’ve fled to other clans. But I just…couldn’t."

Ellana sobbed for the dead and the guilt she felt for having lived, shoulders shaking, the old wound reopened.

"Ir abelas, lethallin," Solas murmured soothingly. "Mala suledin nadas. Tel’numin. Melana tu na elgar enasal."

She wiped her eyes, trying to regain some semblance of control. Falon’Din knew she’d cried a million tears for her clan. Ellana was exhausted.

"Well, that’s the story." She sniffled. "That’s why I’m not with my clan."

"I am sorry. I should not have pried."

"No, it’s okay. Really. I needed to talk about it."

Ellana had talked to someone in the days following the slaughter of her clan. Mother Giselle, a kindhearted grief counselor, had patiently coaxed Ellana out of her shock with gentle words, persuaded her to eat and sleep a minimal amount. Giselle was very good at her job, but even she could only offer sympathy. She had not experienced how it felt to lose everyone you ever loved all at once. Hopefully she never would. 

The look Solas gave her, though, wasn’t sympathy and it certainly wasn’t pity. His grey eyes softened with real understanding, like he knew exactly how Ellana felt. Like he knew the kind of pain that built up inside you until you could barely breathe—the crushing guilt of not being able to save those you love and wishing fate had taken you instead.

"Then I am glad I was here to listen. You _will_ survive this, Ellana."

And she believed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, this got a bit sad. Oops. I swear I was aiming for fluff. I blame Solas.
> 
> Very rough translation of my cobbled together Elvish. Keep in mind that I don't know every grammatical nuance, so this is bound to be wrong: "I am sorry for your loss, my friend. Now you must endure. Do not cry. Time will make your spirit joyful again."


	7. Chapter 7

Leliana and Josephine returned from the beach tanned and smiling serenely. Josie always said that the ocean here reminded her of wading into the surf as a young girl on Antiva's warm coast. Leliana was just pleased to spend more time with her girlfriend.

Solas hadn't visited the coffee shop again. A week passed since the night he waxed poetic about art and she cried in his arms. Ellana knew Solas' work kept him rather preoccupied; he could be in the Dales, translating ancient Elvish found on stone tablets buried deep in a ruin or something. He did, however, accept her invitation to join everyone at the bar for Wicked Grace on Friday.

Which Ellana was now almost twenty minutes late for.

"There you are, Sunflower," Varric said. "We almost had to start without you."

"Sorry. The bus was running late," she explained.

"No worries. Deal her in, Ruffles."

The diplomat obliged. Of course, the only seat left was next to Solas. Her friends were about as subtle as always. Not that Ellana really minded. Maybe with Josephine back, Solas would find winning the game more of a challenge. Lady Montilyet had no tells. It was established fact.

"Dealer starts," she said. "And I think I'll start with...oh, three coppers! Do you think that's too daring? Maybe just one. No, boldness! Three it is."

"Come on, Josie," Leliana giggled. "Live dangerously for once."

"All right then...ten coppers."

Cullen had decided tonight was the night he would finally win a hand against Josephine. Everyone else tried to get by with as much of their coin and dignity as possible. Even Solas played it safer than he had last time. Strangely, most of his attention seemed to be focused on Ellana instead. When she reached across the table to pull a new card from the deck, she felt his lips brush against her ear as he murmured, "The grace with which you move is a pleasing sight, lethallin."

Whoa. Hang on, was Solas flirting with her?

"You're saying I'm graceful?"

"No, I am _declaring_ it," he replied confidently. "It was a not a matter up for debate."

He definitely was flirting with her. It wasn't a dream. Gods, Ellana did not feel prepared for this. She laughed nervously in response.

Halfway through the evening, Varric began telling stories about his misadventures in Kirkwall. Then Cullen shared a hilarious anecdote from his time in the army. Leliana's tales were a peculiar mix of mythical folklore and the latest gossip. When Solas started to tell a story relating to his research, Sera rolled her eyes and playfully stuck out her tongue. His stories were never about himself, Ellana realized. Now that she thought about it, how much did she truly know about Solas?

"I'd like to hear more about you and your work, Solas," Ellana said quietly after the Wicked Grace players started to dwindle. Cullen still remained locked in a futile competition with Josephine.

"You continue to surprise me," Solas replied with a slight smile. "All right, let us talk...preferably somewhere more interesting than this."

"You want to leave together? Don't you think that might look a bit...?"

"Do you object?"

Ellana chewed her lip. "Well...no."

"The ambassador has played admirably. I am proposing that we cut our losses while we can."

 

\----------------------

 

The University of Orlais was one of the oldest campuses in southern Thedas. (For all that Dorian enjoyed boring her with rants about the inherent superiority of Tevinter's educational institutions, he'd certainly come a long way from his homeland to attend school here.)

Ellana was still uncertain why Solas had brought her to the university at half past midnight.

"Are we allowed to be here so late?" she asked.

"I often come here to work after the campus has closed," he said. "If a security guard does ask, tell them Madame de Fer gave you permission. They will likely be too intimidated to question you further."

"So...kind of illegal then?"

"Marginally," Solas admitted.

He led her a room that contained nothing except for a very tall mirror. It loomed over them, casting no shadow. Must be an elven artifact of some kind. The mirror compelled her to touch it, drawing her in, puling at a part of herself she hadn't known existed before. It was also a bit unnerving.

"It doesn't reflect," she observed.

"Indeed. That is not its purpose," Solas explained. "This is called an eluvian. Seeing glass. There are many such mirrors scattered in ruins across Thedas, but most have been broken beyond repair. This is how the ancient elvhen were able to communicate and travel great distances; it is why their empire expanded so far yet left no roads. Old magic lies dormant within this mirror. Each eluvian requires a key to unlock it."

"Do you have the key for this one?"

"Yes. A simple password will activate it." He faced the eluvian, outstretched his hand, and intoned, " _Fen'Harel enansal._ "

The mirror flared to life, a purplish-blue glow rippled over its glass surface like water. Ellana stared in shock and wonder. Was this magic? Real magic? Mages and demons were the stuff of history and legends. No one had cast a spell in Thedas for a thousand years. If the barrier between worlds had once been called a Veil, it was now a Wall.

"You said the eluvians were a method of transportation. Where does this one lead?"

"We could find out if you wish."

Heart pounding like a war drum, she followed him through the looking glass.

They stood in a grey, rather featureless, in-between place. A dense fog obscured much of their surroundings. Ellana could see other mirrors, but they were dark or damaged, just like he'd said. Gods, had the ancient elvhen created this...whatever this world was? Could magic do that, even magic woven for centuries?

"I wanted to share this with you."

"Ma serannas," she breathed, voice barely above a whisper. "This is...I-I don't know if there are any words to describe it. Beautiful, and...sad, somehow? To see a piece of everything we've lost."

He nodded solemnly. "For so long I have been focused on the past. Nothing else mattered. But when I met you, I felt the whole world change."

That got her attention. "Felt the whole world change?"

"A figure of speech."

"Yeah, I'm aware of the metaphor," she said, taking a small step toward him. "I'm more interested in felt."

Solas looked vulnerable, his expression softened, unguarded. "You change...everything."

Unable to reist the temptation a moment longer, Ellana kissed him. It lasted only a second before he pulled away. Just when she was chiding herself for acting so impulsively and making a horrible mistake, Solas' mouth crashed against hers. The kiss was desperate, filled with an intense longing she'd had no idea existed beneath his aloof exterior. When at last their lips did break apart, she could tell Solas regretted every moment he wasn't kissing her.

"We shouldn't...It isn't right, not even here."

"What do you mean? It felt very right to me. You can't just kiss me like that and then pretend there's nothing between us."

" _Wake up_ , Ellana. There is more at stake than our selfish desires. We cannot afford to be distracted from--"

"Yes, I know! You're doing amazing work that'll change the world. Sorry I'm such a fucking distraction."

He sighed, shoulders tense. She watched as his polite mask slid back into place. "We will discuss this in the morning."

"Yeah, we'd better."

 

\-------------------------------------

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the lovely comments, everyone. <3
> 
> In the next chapter: An emergency meeting of Ellana's Love Life Advisors (ELLA, for short.)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took a bit longer. Thanks for your patience. :)

Winter had settled over the city, bringing with it an increase in business for the coffee shop. People on their way to work couldn’t resist stopping in for a warm drink on cold, overcast days. Cullen entered the shop one morning, in full police uniform, looking even more serious than usual.

"Good morning, Officer," Cassandra said respectfully. "Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you. I actually need to speak with Ellana for a moment if that’s all right."

"Me? I haven’t done anything illegal." Well, aside from harboring Sera and trespassing in the university. Best not to mention that.

"Of course it’s all right," Cassandra interjected as if she hadn’t spoken. "Ellana, go with Cullen. I will deal with the customers." The way Cassandra phrased that, it was difficult to imagine why she chose to open a shop rather than a martial arts studio or something. But she was the boss; her employees balanced Cassandra’s forthright attitude with smiles and polite words and, in Dorian’s case, effortless charm.

So she followed Cullen to the small office at the back of the shop where Cassandra occasionally sat a desk, writing paychecks and whatever else business owners did to keep things running.

Cullen sat behind the desk and Ellana took the chair across from him. An awkward silence followed before the officer cleared his throat and spoke.

"As you know, the trial is scheduled for three months from now. There’s something I must ask you. I know how hard this is, but the prosecution wants you to testify in court."

Ellana stiffened. “Oh. Um, if I—don’t i-is there any chance those... _bastards_ could walk free?”

"No," Cullen reassured. "They’re guilty beyond a reasonable doubt and we have a signed confession from Antoine. Without your testimony, however, then depending on the judge, it is possible their sentence could be...less severe than we’re hoping for. It’s unlikely, but—"

"But they murdered a Dalish clan, people no one would miss. They didn’t blow up a chantry," Ellana spat. "My clan was no threat. What happened was a fucking hate crime! Those shemlen killed children, defenseless elders, even our halla..."

"I know," Cullen said earnestly. "I know, Ellana, and that’s why we need your help to put them away for life. Otherwise there is a chance—a small chance—that the judge could see a group of young men with their whole lives ahead of them, who got scared and thought they were protecting their families. Remind people who the victims are. Don’t ever let them forget."

"I’m all that’s left of Clan Lavellan. Mythal, this is so fucked up." Ellana felt her throat constrict, tears blurring her vision. " _Fenedhis_ ,” she cursed quietly. She was so sick of crying. “I’ll testify. I’ll do whatever I have to. I just want this to be over. It’s selfish, I know, but...I feel ready to move on, I think. To put all this behind me.”

"It isn’t selfish at all," he said. "Your clan would have wanted you to be happy, right?"

She nodded. If only she could allow herself one moment of happiness that wasn’t also accompanied by guilt.

Cullen offered her a tissue and she dabbed her eyes. Hopefully they wouldn’t be too red and puffy when she returned to work. He didn’t offer empty words of consolation or sympathy, which she was grateful for. There was only so much pity one could take before it became infuriating.

"I should probably get back to work before Cassandra punches a customer," Ellana sighed.

"Are you—Do you need anything?" Cullen asked. "Perhaps a cup of tea or...something?"

"Tea? You are so Fereldan." She smiled faintly. "I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine."

 

———————————————————-

ELLA was an acronym, of course, which stood for Ellana’s Love Life Advisers. Josephine and Leliana would feed her chocolate and provide...well, advice regarding her love life. Sera was out with her friends, no doubt committing acts of petty vandalism, and Ellana didn’t want to spend the entire evening alone in her apartment.

"Tell me _everything_ ," Josie said as soon as she opened the door, taking Ellana’s hand and leading her the couch. She swept off a layer of throw-pillows so they could sit down.

"Oh, you look awful," Leliana crooned.

"Yeah, thanks. It’s been a shit day."

"So." Josephine began, "This is about your archaeologist, yes?"

She sighed. “Leliana’s told you everything, hasn’t she.”

"Well...not everything. We don’t know where you both disappeared to the other night after Wicked Grace, for example."

So she told them what had happened. About the kiss, and Solas telling her they shouldn't, walking away with only the promise of an explanation that came in the form of texts from a mysterious person called Cole. She omitted the tiny detail of the magic mirror. Solas had shared that with her and her alone for a reason. Ellana didn’t know what that reason was, but she respected it.

"You should talk to Solas," Josephine counseled.

"Or you could attempt to contact this Cole person again. He’s obviously a bit strange, but he might have more insights to offer about Solas."

Ellana ate a spoonful of ice cream while she considered their suggestions. “I could try to reach Cole again, assuming he hasn’t given Solas his phone back. It’s worth a shot.”

" _Or_ you could simply talk to him," Josephine said once more. "He did promise an explanation, did he not?"

"Yeah, and instead I got cryptic texts from a complete stranger. Obviously he's not--"

As if on cue, her phone began to ring. A call from Solas. Of course it would be.

"What are you waiting for? Answer it!"

She stepped into the kitchen for a measure of privacy, although she was certain her friends were eavesdropping and would hear every word. Ellana sat on the floor with her back against the oven, still warm from cooking dinner recently.

"I owe you an apology," came Solas’ voice over the phone.

"Hello to you, too," she chuckled. "We seem to apologize to each other a lot, don’t we?"

"It is becoming a habit with us, yes," he agreed. "Still, I’m sorry if Cole caused you any distress, Ellana. I can assure you his intention was purely to help."

"Who is he, exactly?"

"A friend," Solas answered vaguely. Why must he insist on remaining such an enigma? For some reason the idea of him having friends surprised her.

"You know, I’d never done anything like that before. The eluvian, I mean. And the kiss. I’m not really sure I believe any of it was real."

"That is a matter of debate," he replied. "As for the kiss, I—It was impulsive and ill-considered. I should not have encouraged it."

"I’m not the most qualified to judge these things, but you seemed very interested before. I just want to know what’s changed," Ellana said. Then something else occurred to her. "Unless I’m just imagining there’s more between us. If I’m pressuring you—"

"No, you’re not. Perhaps I am pressuring myself. It has been a long time."

"For you and me both."

"I am not certain this is the best idea," Solas warned. "It could lead to trouble."

Ellana wondered about the source of his hesitation. Something in his past? Maybe a lost lover? Or did he not want to risk being distracted from his work with the eluvian? All of the secrets hidden behind that magic mirror, portals to other worlds. Solas had said meeting her changed everything, but Ellana didn’t understand how. She was, by her own admission, unremarkable.

"Why? What sort of trouble?"

"Relationships complicate things."

"I thought you liked complicated things."

"Maybe. Yes," he conceded with a laugh. "I need a little time to think. There are…considerations."

"Okay, but don’t take too long; I do have suitors lining up, you know," Ellana teased.

"And how could they not? I will certainly keep that in mind."

"Good. Dareth shiral, lethallin."

"Sleep well."

The call ended. It felt distinctly like the beginning of something, as if the shattered pieces of Ellana’s life were finally coming together. The burden of grief slowly lifting from her shoulders. She was ready to live again.


End file.
